


I Guess You're Just What I Needed

by Unforth



Series: All For One, One For All [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Dean, But Seriously Dom Castiel, Butt Plugs, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Castiel, Dom Jimmy, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Homophobic Language, Incest, Is Anyone Surprised that Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, M/M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, PWP, Past Abuse, Past Alastair/Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seriously This Story Is Stuffed Full of Dean's Self-Loathing, Sub Dean, The Part of My Brain That Loves Writing Angsty BS Went to Town, There's Actually a Little Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Castiel, Top Jimmy, Twincest, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past few weeks have stunk on ice. Dean lost his job, he blew his only interview, and he's not going to be able to pay for Sam's textbooks for the spring semester. Only Cas' promise of a surprise gets him through the day. This story is a prequel to "No More Than He Deserves." I highly recommend you read that story before reading this one.</p><p>*NOTE ON THE UNDER AGE TAG* Dean has a fantasy where it is implied that Jimmy and Cas are in their teens. It never really happened. It's all in Dean's head. And even if it had really happened, it's consensual, and they're both underage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Guess You're Just What I Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "No More Than He Deserves." This is theoretically stand alone, but I think it's better if you read that first. Also, it's the same trio, and just as full of smut.
> 
> Dear everyone...this fic was supposed to start with Dean naked on a bed. And I thought it was going to be about 5k words. *laughs hysterically*
> 
> Sorry about all Dean's whiny wallowing. 
> 
> Editing this took *forever*. (whinewhine ;) )
> 
> This is set in and around San Jose. I've never been to San Jose or Stanford, and I've only ever driven around Oakland and Berkeley. (I've been in San Fran, Palo Alto, and San Mateo a bit...). Which is to say...I spent approximately 3.5 seconds looking at maps to pick my locations. If they are totally inappropriate...sorry.
> 
> Throughout this story, Dean's thoughts spin out vivid fantasies. These fantasies are in *Italics* and do *not* represent things that are actually happening, and as far as Dean knows do not reflect things that ever happened.
> 
> Trigger warnings: (READ THE TAGS!)  
> -Homophobic language  
> -John Winchester's A+ Parenting  
> -No seriously he's a douche bag even though he's dead  
> -Past emotional abuse  
> -Past physical abuse  
> -Dean's massive self-esteem issues  
> -Dean’s horny brain producing underage twincest fantasies

Wistfully, Dean stared at the alcohol store across the street. He hated the fucking chain mechanics, always about _more, more, more_ , more cars, more oil changes, more meaningless flushes to ‘upsell,’ work faster, ignore any problems that wouldn’t turn a buck. No one gave a shit if the car was actually, say, safe to drive, no one gave a shit about the customers, as long as vehicles were always moving in and out of the lot. Throughout his interview, he’d tried to keep his disdain from his voice, but he could tell things hadn’t gone well. Fucking _dammit_. Dean needed a job. Even with scholarships paying the bulk of Sammy’s tuition, even with Sam’s work-study position, even with Sam living off campus with his fiancée and splitting the bills, his schooling was fucking expensive. A textbook should be made of fucking _gold_ to justify it costing $200 dollars, but apparently that was normal, and covered one course, and Sam – fucking brilliant overachiever that he was – took five courses a semester. If Dean couldn’t make some money, in a month he’d have to face Sam and tell him he couldn’t afford Sam’s books. The mere thought of it was like a fist squeezing his heart, and his father’s voice castigated him for being such a fucking _failure_ that he couldn’t even do the _one damn thing_ that had ever been asked of him: take care of Sammy. He had to make that voice shut up. He had to.

Dean had $60 in his pocket, every penny he had left to his name. Once that was gone, he’d have nothing but his boots, his jacket, and the Impala. A fifth of Jack would shut the memory of John Winchester right the fuck up. That would be glorious.

Things had briefly looked so damn promising. Moving to San Jose to be closer to Sam had seemed like a great decision. It got him away from the ghosts that haunted Lawrence, meant he could see Sam and be a part of his brother’s life, and the fact that the Novak brothers lived there too had been a major bonus. Dean had dared to get his hopes up, that he’d finally achieved a balance that worked for him, days at the mechanic, nights hanging out with Cas, weekends with Sam. After 15 years knowing that what he wanted with Cas was impossible, knowing that if his dad ever found out, John would beat the tar out of him, the real fucking miracle had been four months ago, when he’d found out his unrequited crush wasn’t so unrequited after all. Sex with Cas was...shit, there weren’t even _words_ for it, it was so damn good.

 _No drinking,_ Cas’ deep voice snapped in his head. That was one of Cas’ absolute rules.

With difficulty, Dean turned and trudged down Camino Real, beginning the long walk back towards the apartment that Jimmy and Castiel shared. The Impala ate too much gas for him to afford to drive it until he had a job again. Instead, he’d parked it on a dead end street near their place, and like every other night since he’d let his lease lapse at the end of last month, he’d let Cas fuck him stupid or he’d hang out with Jimmy while Cas graded papers, and then he’d smile and say he was going home. It was the truth. That was another of Cas’ inviolable rules: _no lies_. It wasn’t a lie. After the number of nights Dean had fled to the garage to escape John’s drunken bullshit, lifted the tarp covering the car, slipped into the car and curled up on the floor of the backseat to nurse his actual and metaphorical wounds, there was nowhere he felt more comfortable. The Impala was home.

 _Stupid, dick-whipped fag_ , taunted his father. _You gonna let that pretty boy tell you what to do?_

There had been a time when thinking of Cas, of what they shared, was enough to drive away the demons, but that was before he lost his job. Now, it just made him feel ashamed and pathetic. Cas worked so hard to plan out things, to get everything just right, to take care of Dean afterwards, and Dean was an ungrateful, undeserving son of a bitch. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Cas. The dude was his best fucking friend in the world _and_ the best fuck of his life. Being around Cas was easy, hanging out with him was invariably awesome, and Dean wanted him like crazy. He adored Cas’ body, adored the way Cas used him and tore him to shreds and then meticulously put him back together again. It wasn’t enough, though.

 _Useless, unemployed, selfish, penniless son of a_ bitch _._

 _Fuck_ , that was his momma he was insulting. Mary wasn’t a bitch, she was an angel. _Angels are watching over you_ , she’d always said when he was a little kid. The only way Dean had gotten through those first few years, five and six and seven years old at a school where everyone knew that _he_ was the boy whose mother had died in a fire, was to believe her implicitly. Mommy had died. The dead went to Heaven and became angels. That meant that Mommy was watching over him.

It hadn’t taken long before life had destroyed that childish faith. There were no fucking angels, and there was no Heaven – not for losers like him, anyway – and no one, not even Sam, gave a shit what Dean did.

Except Cas.

If Dean had realized how essential Cas, and to a lesser extent, Jimmy, would become to his sanity, he’d never have troubled them when he first moved west three years ago, after John died. Cas was working towards his Psy.D. at Stanford, Jimmy was studying for a Philosophy doctorate at Berkeley. Both had stipends, not even close to enough to live on in the Bay area. To save money – it had to be to save money, Dean admonished himself whenever his errant thoughts considered less innocent explanations – the twins had rented a one bedroom apartment in north San Jose, roughly equidistant from each campus. The only places to sleep in the apartment were an enormous king sized bed and a sofa. Neither Cas nor Jimmy had ever explained how their sleeping arrangements worked, and Dean had never dared ask, certain that there must be a reasonable explanation, and that his face would betray every unreasonable explanation that had taunted him over the years.

The sofa never looked slept on no matter how early or how late Dean came to visit, unless Dean slept on it.

There’d been a point when Cas had told Dean to grab something from the closet, and the twin’s clothing had been hopelessly tangled together inside.

Then there was the time he’d gotten there and both twins had been in the shower. Together. Naked. It wasn’t a big shower.

And the morning when Dean had knocked, Cas had answered, and even through the door had heard Jimmy call, “tell whoever it is to fuck off and get your ass back in my bed, Cassie!”

Dean tried not to think about what it all added up to.

 _Cas and Jimmy curled together in the middle of that bed, endless pale skin sleek with sweat. That fucking gorgeous body touching that other,_ identical, _fucking gorgeous body. Those_ sounds _, those fucking ungodly_ moans _, in matched voices. Paired blue eyes staring into their mirror image, azure enveloped in lust and black in the dim of night. Hands running over curves and plains, so familiar yet so subtly different. Flesh rutting against flesh, lips pressing to lips, bodies leaking and desperate, the rustle of sheets as the brothers’ urged each other towards release._

He was going to hell. He was definitely going to hell.

From the time they’d met as high school freshmen, Dean had imagined Cas’ lanky, slender body jerking Dean around to face the wall, forcing his broad shoulders against hard stone and fucking him until he couldn’t stand. They’d grown to be friends and Dean sublimated his desire when they were together, returning home afterwards to masturbate like crazy in the shower, imagining filthy things coming from that angelic mouth as Dean sucked him off. He’d even dated a girl named Cassie so John wouldn’t get suspicious and wonder whose name Dean sometimes moaned alone in his room in the dark of the night.

Due to a zoning quirk, Jimmy had gone to a different school. They’d only encountered each other on the rare occasions when Dean went over to Cas’ house. At all costs, Dean avoided hanging out with Cas in the privacy of one of their homes. Have Cas at the Winchester house was a nightmare, Dean consumed with worry, ashamed that his best friend would notice the poverty hidden behind the slowly moldering suburban exterior, terrified that John would come home and see them together, mortified at the prospect that Cas would hear the things John said to Dean, realize the justice of them, and leave. Usually, they hung out behind Lawrence Central High School, but sometimes that wasn’t an option, and Dean would push to go to Cas’ house rather than brave the dangers at home.

Cas’ family lived in a pleasant split level with their parents and four other siblings, conservative religious asshole’s ideal of the perfect middle American family. Being in Cas’ living room was too close to being in Cas and Jimmy’s bedroom. Even thinking about Cas in bed was enough to prompt teenage Dean to insta-boner, and wandering around his friend’s house so hard he could hardly walk was problematic to say the least. Then there was the time he’d fled to the bathroom, rushing to beat Jimmy there, come in about 30 seconds flat, been subjected to Jimmy’s wry, undeceived stare afterwards, and been hard again 20 minutes later. Come to think of it, that was the first time he’d met Jimmy, the first time he’d seen the way the two of them looked at each other, the first time he’d seen the way they exchanged casual touches and open smiles that Dean could only dream of.

Speaking of getting hard at awkward moments.

They couldn’t _really_...they didn’t _actually_...even if they shared a bed, it didn’t mean they...did it? Fuck, Dean and Cas had been screwing around since July, and while Dean would go on a fucking juice diet before confessing that it was a relationship, and they’d never discussed being exclusive, Dean hadn’t been with anyone else since they’d started and he was pretty sure Cas hadn’t been either. Jimmy, on the other hand, had a constant stream of girlfriends and boyfriends, each of whom lasted roughly 7 to 10 days before disappearing, never be seen again. There was no way. _No fucking way_.

 _Blue eyes unfocused with desire. Arms tangled about him until it was impossible for Dean to tells whose hands were touching him where. Long fingers spreading his ass open, wrapped around his cock, filling his mouth, tracing his muscles, too many hands, the fucking_ perfect _number of hands. Identical thick, hard cocks cradled in each of his palms, pressing against his body, spewing come over Dean’s face and chest as two broken voices, the same save for the low raspy note in one and the upbeat cheerfulness in the other, moaned his name as they came._

His cell phone chirped, the R2-D2 beeps Dean had assigned to Cas, and his cheeks went crimson right there on fucking Hedding Street.

How fucking _dare_ Dean fantasize about Jimmy? He had Cas – awesome, brilliant, gorgeous Castiel – and he wanted _more_? Dean had lusted after Cas for more than half his life, and now that he finally had him, he wasn’t satisfied after four measly months of mind-blowing sex and unearned tenderness and the same epic movie marathons they’d always done. He didn’t deserve a damn thing Cas did for him. He should get out on his own terms before this thing imploded, before Cas realized how much better he could do.

Pulling out his phone, Dean pushed the thought aside, embraced the ache in his heart as a cure for his erection, and read the text message as he walked.

_Castiel (10:43 AM): Done with class. How did the interview go?_

Time to man up, he supposed.

_Dean (10:46 AM): Abso-fraggin’-lutely fantastic._

Or not.

_Castiel (10:46 AM): ..._

Seriously, the dude had sent him an ellipse?

God, Dean sucked. Couldn’t admit he’d fucked up the only interview he’d gotten after submitting 23 resumes – wait, 24, he’d forgotten that one he’d put in at the In-n-Out Burger. Couldn’t admit that he was showering at the twin’s place because he had nowhere else to do it. Couldn’t admit he was mooching their food. Couldn’t admit to Sam that he’d even lost his job. Couldn’t admit that he was a fucking waste of Cas time.

_Castiel (10:48 AM): That well, huh?_

No matter what Dean actually said, even when Cas couldn’t hear Dean’s inflection or see his expression, Cas read him like a book. Cas spoke ‘Dean,’ understood him implicitly, knew what to say, knew that Dean’s text had been code for ‘like shit.’ Cas shouldn’t _have_ to guess. Dean should be able to tell him, should be able to trust him. Feeling utterly useless, repressing a sigh, Dean made the final turn towards home and didn’t reply.

_Castiel (10:54 AM): You should get home and get ready. I have a surprise for you._

Dean’s throat went dry.

How the fuck did Cas always just _know_?

His steps were much lighter the last quarter mile.

Dean was practically running by the time he got back to the apartment. He’d have actually run, but for his hard on rendering that functionally impossible. He took the stairs two at a time, fumbled with the keys – Cas had given him the spare a couple weeks after Dean had moved to San Jose – and burst breathlessly through the door and into the living room.

No one was home, of course. Cas never initiated a scene if Jimmy was going to be around, and rarely initiated one when Cas was in the apartment. Making Dean await his pleasure was important to Cas, and hot as sin. Dean’s eyes skimmed over the pristine, neat room, couch, coffee table, wall-mounted TV, built in bookcases stuffed with academic tomes. His eyes fell on the small table placed next to the bedroom door and he heaved a pleased, relieved sigh. That table only appeared when Cas had a plan and held only what Dean would need to prepare himself. Today, there was a new bottle of lubricant, a small, thin butt plug in translucent pink plastic, and an open pair of hand cuffs padded with plain black cushioning. A shiver of anticipation ran down his back, caused his confined dick to strain against the slacks he’d worn to his interview.

He had his clothes off in a flash, folded neatly and placed on the floor beneath the table. There was a language to how he placed his clothing, one that Dean had not been able to explain but that Cas had intuited by observation. Dean had confirmed Cas’ translation when asked, and now they used the system every time, enabling Cas to have a sense of Dean’s needs without either of them having to speak and shatter the precious fantasies they built together. Balling up his outfit and tossing it carelessly atop the table meant, “Green light, all is well, do whatever you want, I’m gonna be a mouthy bitch and am looking forward to whatever punishment you dish out.” Tossed negligently beneath in disorder meant, “green light, all is well, do whatever the fuck you want, I’ll be good.” Folded and atop the table meant, “yellow light, I’ll do my best but please don’t be too hard on me.” Folded and below the table was the danger sign, “yellow light, I’m not okay, I need you to take me apart, I need you to put me back together.” Dean sitting on the couch fully clothed despite having been given instructions, waiting for Cas to come home, was “red light.” That had only happened once, the day he’d lost his job.

 _I need you, Cas_.

There was no way that Dean could say those things to Cas. The best he could manage was to flippantly toss off some self-deprecating bullshit and hope Cas understood. Communication between them was a work in progress. They could talk about Star Wars til the fucking cows came home, but talking about “ _them_ ”left Dean speechless. Cas had this whole “I can’t be your dom if we don’t talk about these things” attitude. It had taken time – and an unpleasant demonstration of the potential consequences – to force Dean to concede that Cas had a point. He tried, tried to be clear about how he felt, tried to be clear about his desires, but asking for what he wanted was impossible.

There were things that haunted his dreams that Cas never brought up, but that was fine. If Cas didn’t want to do something, there was no reason for them to do it.

_Long strands of dark hair curled around Jimmy’s ears as he kissed Cas like his fucking life depended on it. Their interlaced fingers stroked Dean’s cock. With every break in their make out session, breathy whispers of, “you can’t come, not until Jimmy says so,” escaped Cas._

_“You’re gonna have to work for it,” added Jimmy with a wicked chuckle, and shoved his dick in Dean’s mouth._

_Cas shifted behind Dean, thrust into him with one swift, confident movement, filling him so suddenly he gagged on the thickness in his mouth. Cas’ hand on the back of Dean’s head forced him to take Jimmy deeper, fingers squeezed at his cock, fondled his balls, his eyes closed as musky flavor flooded his taste buds. After that first thrust, Cas didn’t move, just stretched him, teased him with stillness._

_“Jimmy comes first, Dean. Take care of my brother for me.”_

_Fucking_ bliss _surrounded him, and he didn’t make a noise, and he didn’t move, and he didn’t come. Jimmy screamed his name, spurted down his throat as Dean sucked Jimmy through his orgasm. In a fucked-out voice, Jimmy told Dean to demonstrate how much he loved having a dick in his mouth, told Dean to demonstrate how hot drinking Jimmy down had made him, told Dean to fill Jimmy’s hand with come. And he did, fuck did he, bursting as Cas stroked him and filled him and Jimmy teased his slit and licked his semen from every corner of Dean’s mouth. Drunk on sensation, Dean’s body went limp._

_His body spasmed as Cas drew back and thrust into him and he moaned, helpless to do anything else. Cas fucked him hard, cascading pleasure rattled through him even though he couldn’t possibly get hard again so soon. The twins let him moan and writhe against the mattress as Cas took everything he wanted from Dean’s tight hole and Jimmy whispered tender praise in his ear. He sobbed with joy when Cas finally came, Jimmy holding him still, petting his hair, the air filled with the sound of Cas crying out his name as his shuddered free his release into Dean’s ass._

Yeah. Like that. Things he could _never_ ask for. Their scenes were about what Cas wanted. As long as Dean did his best to be clear when asked, Cas didn’t punish him, and Dean was slowly getting better at expressing what he wasn’t comfortable with. Before they tried something new, Cas talked, and Dean agreed or disagreed. Afterwards, Cas talked about his impressions of what had worked and what hadn’t, and Dean agreed or disagreed, and explained further if he had to.

Day by day, it grew easier. Until days like today.

Walking into the bedroom, Dean tossed the cuffs and the plug on the bed and tore the shrink wrap from the bottle of lube, throwing it away in the bathroom. It was a cool day outside, but in the room it was almost unpleasantly warm, a square of brilliant sunshine spilling across the dark blue comforter and over the off-white carpet. The twins had simple taste and the room was minimally furnished: bare white walls, king-size bed, paired night stands and lamps, a chest of drawers, and an overhead light. There were never any distractions in that room, which Dean appreciated sometimes more than others. Feeling disgruntled, Dean lay on the bed, filled his palm with lube, and coated two fingers. Rubbing pleasantly cold liquid over his entrance, he considered how best to proceed.

The narrow plug was only barely bigger than one finger and wouldn’t stretch Dean at all, implying that Cas wanted Dean ready, but not _too_ ready. Cas might be planning to prep him more himself, or might want him tight. An instant’s temptation nearly had him getting up to wash the lube from his hands unused. He’d fucked up the interview, he had no prospects at all, he had no fucking future, he’d nearly blown his last cash on booze, and he was fantasizing about Jimmy even though he already had Cas. All his life, only one thing had been expected of him – take care of Sam – and he was epic fucking failing at it. A part of him screamed to shove the plug into himself dry, hide the lubricant so that Cas had to take him that way, so that Cas would be forced to punish Dean. He longed for his body to hurt, to relieve and distract him from the pain in his thoughts. He should bleed. He should suffer. He didn’t want to, wouldn’t get off on it, but what he wanted didn’t matter. It’s what he had coming. That was what had drawn him to Alastair, once, someone to excise from his flesh what Dean couldn’t tear from his mind. Someone to give him _exactly_ what he knew, in his heart, he deserved.

 _I decide what you deserve_. That was what Cas always said. Cas was _way_ too lenient with him.

The lubricant had been on the table because Dean was supposed to use it. If he didn’t, he’d have disobeyed, and Cas would _definitely_ not give him what he needed. Knowing Cas, he’d do exactly the opposite, coddle Dean, open him up, tease him until he begged, blow his mind with that wonderful mouth, fuck him and stroke him...and not let him come. The only way to get what he needed, what he really needed, was to trust Cas and follow Cas’ instructions to the letter.

Resolution firmed, Dean thrust into himself with both fingers, spread himself harshly despite the pain. At least he could give himself small outlet for his desires, produce just enough burn to drown out his self-loathing with the satisfaction that he was getting what was coming to him

As the lube spread and the way eased, tingling pleasure replaced the pain. His hard cock throbbed with anticipation, leaked droplets amidst the groomed, short brown hairs that led down to his crotch. When his fingers drove in and out smoothly, he pulled them out, coated the plug, and shoved it into himself. It was entirely inadequate in a way he found simultaneously utterly frustrating and completely deserved. To his surprise, he realized he was smiling. Hopefully, Cas would keep him waiting a long time. The unsatisfying pressure within him, hardly straining his walls, touching him nowhere particularly sensitive, matched his current mood perfectly.

Dean rolled to his knees, set the lube on the night stand, and positioned himself on the edge of the bed facing the door. Knees apart so that his cock stuck straight out between them, his ankles cradling his ass. His legs would be asleep in minutes, and if Cas pulled him around or told him to move, the pins and needles would get him more of the punishment he craved. Grabbing the hand cuffs, Dean put on one, reached his arms behind his back, and fumbled until he managed to get the other in place and closed. A long chain separated them, enabling him to spread his hands nearly a foot apart. He set his palms on the bed behind him, leaned his shoulders back, and rolled his hips back so that when Cas arrived he’d would have a nice view of taut chest and stomach muscles, powerful thighs, and a cock red with longing for him.

Letting his eyes slip shut, Dean waited.

Time meant nothing. The heat of desire and the need to wait obediently drove away all his distracting, unpleasant thoughts. The concentration he put into hearing the least hint of Cas’ approach caused the noise of the rest of the world to disappear. The bright pink glow behind his eyelids was constant and soothing. The pulsing heat of the sunlight streaming onto him, matching the warmth of his arousal, drowned out all other sensations. The whispering voice in his thoughts theorized what might be to come, played out endless teasing scenarios that kept him buzzed on pleasure. The combination was meditative. As the day stretched out, Dean noted that the brightness of the sunlight faded from the back of his eyelids, the heat striking his flesh shifted by imperceptible degrees until he sat entirely in the room’s shadow. His legs were numb, his dick drooped between his legs, and his arms ached from the awkward angle the hand cuffs forced him to twist his shoulders.

His ears picked up the faint click of the lock, and Dean’s breath caught and sped, cock rousing with interest. There was no other sound for several minutes, and then heavy, deliberate steps moved into the bedroom. Cas must be stomping to make that much noise. Dean opened his eyes.

Blue filled his vision as Cas closed with him, lay a chill hand on his waist, the other curling over his shoulder, and tender lips kissed him. He reciprocated – kissing back was one of the only ways he was allowed to move without permission, unless Cas specifically told him he was not permitted to do so. Letting his eyes slip shut, Dean reveled in Cas’ precious mouth, tasting of apple turnover and black tea. Close-mouthed, they massaged each other with skilled lips, warm happiness spreading through Dean as though Cas’ mouth was the sun rising against his bare skin. The hand at his waist circled his back, drew them closer together, and Cas deepened the kiss, opening Dean’s mouth, flicking at Dean’s tongue, along his teeth, through the saliva pooled in the hollows of his cheeks.

Panting, Cas broke off the kiss and released his hold on Dean, who fell backwards onto his hands, wrists twinging. Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel frowning in concern, eyes lowered with uncertainty.

“Normally, we talk before trying something new,” Cas said hesitantly, sounding adorably self-conscious. Fuck, he was gorgeous, hair combed neatly to one side and begging for someone to dishevel it, eyes deep blue made darker as they caught the hew of his navy shirt, black slacks and black vest. No glasses today, he didn’t always bother with them, and his stubble made a dark patch on his cheeks and chin. “However, I don’t think what I’ve got planned will work if it’s not a surprise. I was already a little leery...and then I saw your clothes...” Dean colored in embarrassment, averted his gaze. A firm grip closed over his chin and lifted his face. “Look at me, Dean. I’m going to take care of you today. If anything happens, anything at all, that doesn’t make you happy, that isn’t what you need, you _must_ tell me.” There was a long pause, during which Cas brow slowly furrowed. Finally, he sighed. “I know that look. Promise me, Dean. Say the words.”

“I promise, Cas,” he grunted, frustrated. Cas should use him and discard him. That’s what Dean wanted, what he deserved, what Cas deserved. There was nothing Cas could do that would cause him to protest, not if it was something that Cas desired, not with the way Dean’s day, week, and month were going.

Cas’s restrained huff of breath was the equivalent of most people’s huge sigh of relief, and the tension drained from Cas’ shoulders. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone, pressed a few buttons, turned it off and set it on top of the chest of drawers. Slowly, deliberately, Cas stripped as if he were alone in the room, only his erection betraying that Cas was completely aware that, though Dean didn’t move, Dean’s eyes followed him acutely as Cas hung his trousers and vest in the closet, draped his shirt neatly atop the pile of dry cleaning, and tossed his socks and boxers into the dirty laundry.

Gorgeous and toned, well-groomed, there was not a hair out of place except those that Cas wanted that way. Castiel was fucking _stunning._ A shiver trailed up Dean’s spine like fingernails, and it was all he could do not to shake his shoulders out as those piercing eyes – bright blue now that the navy was no longer there to dull them – met his. Cas quirked his head to one side as if studying a curious specimen he’d never seen before.

The bed shifted as Cas finally crossed to him, and Dean subtly shifted his weight back to maintain his balance. Not permitted to move, he lost sight of Cas as the man took up a position behind him. Hands settled beneath his armpits, gently urging Dean to allow Cas to carry his weight, and Dean obliged instantly. With easy strength, Cas lifted Dean’s arms over his head so that they came to rest against Cas’ sides, chain on the hand cuffs digging into the flesh of Cas’ back, pressing Cas breasts hard against Dean’s shoulder blades but leaving space between them otherwise. Dean’s movements pressed the butt plug in to him as deeply as it could go, which wasn’t saying much. Cas’ cock rested, thick and just beginning to grow moist, in the cleft of Dean’s ass, and his own cock was enthusiastically on board. Once they were settled in place, Cas began a tender exploration of every inch of Dean’s back.

“Watch the door, Dean,” Cas murmured in his ear.

The massage was soothing and wonderful, draining his aches and his tension, loosening him up. The possibility that something was coming that Cas was genuinely concerned Dean wouldn’t like had caused Dean more stress than he’d realized. Cas rubbed him with the intention of giving ease instead of pleasure, and under Cas’ caring ministrations, he allowed himself to relax because Cas wanted him to relax. Open-mouthed kisses left wet splotches on Dean’s neck, behind his ear, along his shoulder. A playful nip startled him, but he suppressed his instinctual jump and kept still. Cas wasn’t testing him. At the moment, this was about Dean. Cas made Dean feel good because doing so caused Cas to feel good. Dean could accept that, for now.

“That’s going to leave a bruise,” Cas chuckled. “You may set your head on my shoulder, if you’d like.” Barely holding back a happy sigh, Dean let his head flop back, even as he kept his eyes glued on the door, a narrow view of the end of the couch, the door to the kitchen, and the blank wall next to the front door.

Exploring fingers found the end of the plug as Cas palmed up his back with the other hand. Withdrawing the toy slightly, Cas scratched a nail lightly over Dean’s pucker, humming his approval at the moisture and tightness that he found. The abrasion tickled, and Dean smiled to hold back laughter and twitching. Facial expressions were another exception to the “no movement” rule, provided Dean didn’t take advantage. Moving the finger aside, Cas pushed the toy back in while pressing it down against Dean’s opening, and a hot flare of _good_ burned through Dean, quickened his heart and his breathing. Cas pulled it out again, just a little, and then pushed it in again, this time stretching Dean’s opening to the right. Out again, and in again, stretching up, and again, stretching to the left. Each movement was slow and deliberate and built the need for _more_. The toy was so completely inadequate, so thin it put hardly any pressure on his channel, so short it couldn’t reach his prostate. Pushing himself, exerting himself, was what ultimately brought bliss. If meeting Cas’ demands was easy, what would be the fucking point?

“I can’t wait to learn what you think of tonight,” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear, pulling the toy out a bit further, pushing it straight back in, slipping his cock between Dean’s cheeks and thighs. “There’s so much I want to say to you right now, but I don’t want to bias you. I need to know what you really think, not what you think I want to hear, when the time comes.” Though Cas betrayed nothing with his words, he betrayed much with his tone and the matching quivering excitement that caused Cas’ breathing to stutter even though they had just started. With the next withdrawal of the toy, Cas drew his hips back, a slight pulse that felt greater against dry skin, and Cas thrust between his legs as the plug was thrust back in. A soft moan gusted through Cas’ lips. Cas had fucking _unbelievable_ self-restraint. No matter how far he pushed Dean, he almost never came until after Dean did, not unless doing so was specifically part of the scene. For him to be so wound up told Dean how high Cas’ expectations were for what was to come. Anticipation blossomed enticingly.

Nothing followed, though. Cas rutted between Dean’s thighs, way slowly eased as pre-come smeared over Dean’s flesh, the butt plug teased at him, and Dean grew more frustrated. This wasn’t getting them _anywhere_. It was part and parcel of their activities of late. Being with Cas was fricken awesome, and Dean always got off, but it was no longer what he needed. The thought was terrifying. When had wonderful, caring, dominating, tender Castiel ceased to be enough? Dean was a fucking insatiable dipshit to not appreciate what he had. People fucking _dreamed_ of this kind of chemistry with their best friend, and Dean had it and had the gall to think it inadequate.

“Shhhh,” murmured Cas soothingly, a hand kneading at the tension clogging Dean’s neck. “It’s okay. I’m sorry about the delay, but I’ll make it up to you, provided you are good for me. You’re always so good, Dean – you’re so good right now – I know you can do what I’m asking of you.” His hand never stopped working the plug, his cock never stopped sliding between Dean’s legs, but Dean hardly felt it over the growing darkness in his thoughts.

His dad always called him an ungrateful little fucker, and it was true, Dean was a selfish jackass with a swelled head, unable to say fucking _thank you_ and be satisfied with the best thing that had ever happened to him. If he couldn’t appreciate what Cas gave him, he should leave and let Cas find someone who fucking valued him like he deserved. Cas was fucking _priceless_ , absolutely _perfect_. Dean had been with all kinds of people, men, women, some vanilla, some kinky, some doms, a couple subs, Alastair, who was his own damn category, and no one, _no one_ , got him where he needed to be like Cas did. No one got him like Cas did. All that kindness and understanding were squandered on Dean. Cas should save his affection for someone who could return it, someone who deserved it. After this scene, Dean would do what he hadn’t had the willpower to do when Cas had finally pushed him to admit his interest. He’d break it off, get out of Cas’ life so that his best friend could find someone who gave back to Cas, instead of taking and taking and taking like the needy shithead Dean was.

The front door opened and shut loudly, clatter of wood on wood exploding through Dean’s thoughts like fucking dynamite. Panic blanked his senses for a moment, his body going rigid. Jimmy was home, and Dean was sitting buck-ass naked on Jimmy’s bed, erection facing the door, Cas supporting him and gently fucking Dean’s ass and the soft skin of his thighs. With alarm, Dean watched the shadows shifting on the carpet in the living room.

Wait. 

Dean’s eyes were glued to the door because Cas had told him to do so. Cas, who was behind him, who hadn’t stopped rutting, hadn’t stopped teasing at Dean’s insides with the plug. Cas, who hadn’t gone tense; on the contrary, he’d relaxed. “It’s okay, Dean,” Cas repeated, voice growing breathy and ragged. “Everything is okay. You just remember what you promised me, okay?” A thumb rubbed hard circles at the base of Dean’s spine, straining to release the tension that had bunched there. “Anything that doesn’t work for you, you must tell me.”

Cas knew Jimmy was going to come home.

 _Why_? Trying not to get caught would certainly add something, but Dean always kept quiet unless Cas instructed him otherwise. Was Cas’ plan to order Dean to make noise knowing that Jimmy would hear every gasping moan? To see if they could keep Jimmy from finding out – or to get off on knowing that Jimmy was in there, listening? Something about those theories didn’t add up. Dean’s cock gave an urgent, desperate twitch at the thought of Jimmy overhearing, of Jimmy enjoying what he heard, of Jimmy getting off on it, of...

Jimmy stepped into the bedroom doorway and Dean’s chest rippled with a desperate breath that was all that kept him from a groan. Cas stopped his teasing touches and his thrusts. Dressed for his day, Jimmy couldn’t make a starker contrast to Cas’ put-together outfit. Like Cas, Jimmy was a doctoral student, a teaching assistant, but that made no difference. If he went to meet the fucking President of the United States, Jimmy would show up looking just as he did now, hair sticking out in every direction, cheeks peppered with three days growth, wearing Birkenstocks, jeans two sizes too big, a t-shirt of someone flipping the bird and a shapeless homespun jacket woven in thick, multi-colored yarn. Usually, Jimmy was as confident and laid back as the outfit suggested, but not now. Jimmy looked unsure of himself, hands fiddling idly at the bottom corner of his open jacket, lips caught somewhere between a shy smile and a concerned moue, brow lowered. 

He didn’t look like someone at all surprised to walk in on his brother and his brother’s best friend having sex. Quite the contrary. Jimmy’s expression brightened, eyes widening, and he took in Dean’s nudity, flushed skin, the rapid rise and fall of Dean’s chest, the red wetness of Dean’s cock. Under Jimmy’s scrutiny, Dean’s heartbeat ramped up, his breath came in quick huffed inhalations that made him dizzy, his sight blurred out of focus only to shift back in with sudden perfect clarity.

Hesitantly, Jimmy shucked his jacket and negligently tossed it behind him towards the living room. The younger twin – there was a whole forty minutes between them – took an awkward step into the room, and Dean had nearly a year on both of them. The prominent bulge in Jimmy’s pants drew Dean’s eyes, and certainly accounted for his halting advance. Dean swallowed hard and locked his jaw to keep from moaning. Flickers of every fantasy he’d ever had about the twins raced through his thoughts.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t really be happening.

“Dean, Jimmy’s going to join us,” Cas’ tone, low and throaty, was a tangled mix of desire and uncertainty.

Holy _fuck_ this couldn’t be happening.

“I invited him to watch and figured we’d see how we feel about things as we go,” Cas continued, words coming in a rush. “I’ve told him what a good, obedient man you are. I know you won’t embarrass me. Furthermore, I expect you to watch him, okay? If that means you have to move your head, then move it – but you will keep your eyes on him at all times.”

Yeah, he could do that. If he stared at Jimmy long enough, Dean might even start to believe that the twin was really there. Jesus, watching Jimmy’s pupils dilate was all kinds of hot. Dean’s cock twitched uncontrollably, Cas chuckled, and Jimmy bit his lip against a moan and laid a palm on his crotch.

“Think I’ll just pull up a chair, then,” Jimmy’s voice hitched and cracked like he was 14. The way his words grew high pitched was a surprising contrast to the way Cas’ went lower and raspier the more aroused he grew. Jimmy hurried out of the room as fast as he could waddle around the bulge between his legs. Dean stared silently after him, and Cas began to play with the butt plug once more. The taunting pleasure it rippled through Dean was on a whole nother level from earlier. The stakes of this scene had ramped up dramatically. Dean didn’t only have to be good for Cas. He had to be good for both of them. Could he even do that? _Fuck no_. His utter inadequacy was patently undeniable. Jimmy’s return interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Bearing one of the metal chairs from the kitchenette, Jimmy set it to one side of the door, near the dimming window, and sat down, watching them both.

“Now what?” asked Jimmy uncertainly.

“I think a demonstration is in order.” There was a wicked twist to Cas’ words, a lascivious grin that Dean could picture clearly because he’d seen it so many times and because the same expression was overcoming Jimmy’s face.

Pulling the plug out nearly all the way, Cas plunged it in hard, but the good feelings that spurted through Dean faded instantly, lost in unpleasantly clenched muscles, a knotted stomach, a burst of phantom pain as if someone had kicked him, and a choking grip around his throat. The hand that rested on the small of Dean’s back moved gently up his spine, shivering through him, causing his desperate breathing to catch and snag.

 _Can’t. Can’t be happening. Can’t do this. I can’t be good enough for Cas. I can’t be good enough for either of them. How the fuck am I supposed to be good enough for_ both _of them? I fucking can’t. It’s fucking impossible._ The terrible thoughts devoured every good feeling as, with wordless soothing noises, Cas attempted to calm him down, attempted to ease Dean back into the moment. _Why would Cas ask this of me? He knows I can’t do this. I’m not good enough. I fucking_ suck.

“He’s really tense,” observed Jimmy. All arousal had faded from his voice, only clinical detachment remained, as if he were critiquing an unusually bad porno.

“Yes,” said Cas with concern. “Dean, you promised, so I’m assuming this is okay, but will you tell me what’s troubling you?”

“Can’t have this,” muttered Dean, mortified at having to admit it. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he take what was offered when they both clearly wanted it, when he wanted it, too? “I don’t...I shouldn’t even have you, Cas, I’m...you know...but Jimmy, too?”

“If you feel you can’t do this, are you safe wording?” Cas asked firmly, all sexual touch stopping abruptly. It was all Dean could do not to moan at the loss.

“No...no...if you want...I mean,” he broke off. “Fuck.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to explain, wasn’t that he refused, he literally fucking _couldn’t_. Another reason he didn’t deserve Cas – Cas was a fucking _saint_ and deserved someone who could be open and straight with him, not like Dean’s tongue-tied drivel, all he could manage after a lifetime of being told by his father to be a man and keep his Goddamn feelings to himself.

No one but Sam knew better than Cas the ways John had treated Dean. Despite all Dean’s efforts to keep it from his friend, Cas had seen Dean and John together. Cas had seen them on Parent-Teacher nights, seen them at graduation, seen them at home, seen them make a fucking spectacle of themselves outside of Harvelle’s, seen the bruises on Dean’s chest when they’d changed together in the locker room for gym class. Cas had heard the things that John said to him. How Cas could know all of that and still want Dean around defied comprehension.

“Jimmy, tell Dean why you’re here.” The note of command in Cas’ voice, the authoritative control that Dean had only ever heard Cas use when Dean and Cas were doing a scene, sent an enticing tingle through Dean’s body despite how emotionally exposed he felt. “Oh, and brother? It’s up to what you share. Tell as much or as little as you want. But if you lie to him, now or ever, under _any_ circumstances, you will _not_ enjoy the consequences. Clear?” The possessiveness in Castiel’s tone was wonderful and spiked Dean’s guilt even higher.

“Capisce, bro.” Jimmy shot a cocky thumbs up at Cas. “So, Dean, uh, hey.” With a shy smile, cheeks flushed, Jimmy waved at him. In response, Dean’s face went crimson. Jimmy was _embarrassed_? Dean had once watched Jimmy whip his cock out at a party to prove he was “more of a man” than some dickbag dudebro who’d been mackin’ on a chick who was clearly not interested. Jimmy had later taken that babe home with him. “Not gonna lie, I’ve had, this, like, major crush unrequited attraction thing for you since about five minutes after I met you? But you were already BFFs with my bro and I knew he jizzed in his sleep moaning your name almost every night, so I wasn’t about to say anything...”

Fully formed and wholly unbidden, images sprang into Dean’s mind.

_Jimmy and Cas lay in a bed too small for two, naked in the summer heat. Cas, lost in the throes of a wet dream, achingly hard, never touched by any hand but his own, cuddled up to his brother, unconsciously rubbed his need against Jimmy’s thigh, nothing but Cas’ leaking pre-come to ease the way._

_“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Cas whispered unceasingly into the air sticky with humidity, voice breaking with his urgency. “Oh, Dean!”_

_Jimmy, forced awake, unwilling to push his brother away, unwilling to wake him, driven to distraction with his own desire, took a hold of himself, stroked, murmured his own wants_. _“Please, please more, don’t stop, Cassie, don’t stop.” Cas gasped, and tentatively Jimmy reached between them, wrapped his fingers gently around his brother’s tender flesh, stroked them both through their climaxes._

A desperate groan died as a guttural grunt in Dean’s lungs, barely suppressed.

“I’ve never seen him happier than he has been since you started dating,” Jimmy continued guiltily. “Look, you’re fucking _gorgeous._ You’re the hardest working bastard I’ve ever met. You’re more devoted to your friends and family than, frankly, most of them have ever deserved. If you weren’t my brother’s I would have been on you like white on rice every damn day in Lawrence, and about ten seconds after you moved to California.” The squeaky note of want was back in Jimmy’s voice, and the clear blue of his eyes, slightly darker than Cas’, was slowly getting swallowed by black. “Cassie suggested it’d be okay if I stopped by sometime, and, uh, fuck yeah. He said you’re the best sub he’s ever been with. Said I had to see for myself. Said he was pretty sure you’d be down with my being here.” Jimmy shrugged, wiggling tension from his shoulders. “If you don’t want me to watch, that’s cool – I’ll go.”

It wasn’t until Jimmy stopped talking that Dean realized that the moment the twin had started speaking, the moment Dean had heard the forlorn longing in Jimmy’s voice, all of Dean’s demons had skittered into hiding.

Cas wouldn’t have invited Jimmy if Cas didn’t want his brother involved. Cas wouldn’t have invited Jimmy if he didn’t think that Dean could do this.

“Dean, do you want Jimmy to stay?”

Fuck, maybe he really could be good enough for the two most wonderful people he’d ever met. He had to try.

“Yes,” Dean said. His cock bobbed enthusiastic agreement, and Jimmy’s eyes went pitch, a gasping mewl escaped him.

“Good,” Cas said, giving Dean a gentle kiss on the cheek. Hands trailed caresses over Dean’s back. “I’ve got you. I won’t ask anything of you that you’re not able to give.” Dean slumped bonelessly against Cas as acceptance left him loose and hungry for what the twins were offering. As instructed, his eyes never left Jimmy, who grinned at him, hungrily scanning across Dean’s prominently displayed chest and cock, eyes devouring the sight of Cas and Dean’s clasped bodies, the butt plug sticking from Dean’s ass, Cas’ cock rubbing pre-come on Dean’s cheeks. “I’ve told my brother a great deal about how unceasingly you attend to your standing orders. Let’s giving him a demonstration.”

Dean’s breath caught as Cas slipped a hand around to Dean’s front and nails scraped along his sensitive skin. Aside from an involuntary shiver, Dean didn’t move a muscle, letting Cas support his weight and keeping his eyes fixed on the still-clothed twin. With expert knowledge of exactly what Dean liked, Cas traced along each of his ribs, pressure just right to leave heat in the wake of every touch. Losing himself in the feeling, Dean thrilled in the freedom of giving himself over to Cas’ ministrations.

“What do you see, Jimmy?” Cas asked, casual tone betrayed by gravelly hoarseness, by the way his cock throbbed against Dean’s crack. A thumb rubbed roughly over Dean’s nipple, always so responsive, instantly hardening the dark flesh into a thick nub. Dean’s abs twitched with the effort of not straining into the touch, tears of pleasure gathered in the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as Cas expertly toyed with him.

“Holy shit,” whispered Jimmy. His hands clutched the thin arms of the chair, knuckles white, cheeks pinked beneath the dusky brush of stubble. “Uh, yeah, he really likes that – can you see his face right now, bro?”

“Don’t need to,” said Cas, smiling encouragement against Dean’s neck. “You should hear the sounds he makes when I do this and let him make noise.” Cas’ hand drifted to the other nipple, teasing gently with a nail until the flesh ached and Dean was panting desperately to hold back every needy mewl struggling to fight free of his lungs.

“Yeah...yeah, I’d like that,” Jimmy nodded. One of his hands released its death grip on the chair and went to his crotch, rubbing himself through his jeans.

Planting his hand over Dean’s heart, Cas bore down against Dean’s heaving lungs, felt Dean’s racing heartbeat against his palm. Dean repressed his desire to beg Cas to keep touching his nipples. “Did you notice that?”

“The way he just tensed?”

Cas nodded against the side of Dean’s neck. “That’s because he didn’t want me to stop. But he’s so good – not a word, not a twitch. So good.” Cas grasped the end of the butt plug, pulling it completely and then punching it back into Dean’s body. Breath burst from his lungs as if Dean had been punched in truth.

“Wow,” breathed Jimmy. Both hands were in play now as Jimmy slid forward in the chair and frantically pawed at the button of his jeans. Vocal noises underscored his every breath.

A faint smile played over Dean’s face and relief brought more tears to his eyes. Cas was proud of him. Dean _could_ do this. Watching Dean was what put that awed, desperate look on Jimmy’s face. Maybe he wasn’t such a fuck up after all.

Relief disappeared in the frantic urging of need from his teased channel, begging to be spread wide, his cock screaming for touch. Cas plunged the toy into Dean again and skimmed a hand to his nipple to twist and tug it roughly. Bliss hit him at both points, a claxon in his empty thoughts, a curl of dazzling sunshine in his guts. Dean’s sight of Jimmy blanked in blurred desire and the essential concentration that kept him from begging for more. When his sight cleared, Jimmy was scrambling at the cloth of bright red satin boxers. As Dean watched – as Cas began to fuck him harder with the toy, using it to work him open – Jimmy finally got himself free with a long, low moan of relief. Long and red and indistinguishable from Cas’ dick, at least at a distance, Dean had to bite his lip to hold back a moan to see the liquid gleaming about the head.

“Cas, that’s fucking...” Jimmy thumbed at the head of his cock, smearing his hand with the clear release, and teased his length between his palms. “ _How_? How the fuck does he do that? I’d lose my fucking mind if I had to be that quiet.” As if to prove the point, Jimmy closed a fist around himself and, with a twist of his hand, jerked himself hard from head to base and groaned, head lolling back on the chair. Dean could see how difficult it was for Jimmy to keep his eyes open, see how determined Jimmy was to do so, to not miss a moment of what Cas and Dean were doing. Another stab of pride filled him as Cas drove the toy home once more and gave Dean’s nipple a tender brush that sent tingling pleasure from his mostly-numb toes all the way to his scalp.

“Tell Jimmy your baseline orders, Dean,” suggested Cas. “You may speak, but _only_ to say that.”

“Not allowed to make any noise unless...” he broke off in a grunt and a burst of _holy shit good_ as Cas drove the butt plug in once more, twisting it so that it brushed places in him that had felt no touch yet that day. A tear leaked from the corner of one eye. “Unless you tell me to.” The hand left his nipple, and he allowed himself a single calming breath to restore his equilibrium before continuing. Cas teased with deceptive gentleness at the plug. “Not allowed to move at all...” All at once, the plug was gone, and in its absence Dean felt the profound difference between being even a little full and being completely empty. It was all he could do not to sob at the loss. “Unless you move me or—” Fingers trailed along his belly, teased at the light trail of hairs that made a triangle down to his crotch, mussing them, moving them in a way that tantalized pinpricks of tingling pleasure. A spurt of pre-come dripped from his cock, Jimmy gasped and moaned as he stroked himself harder, and Dean’s words stuttered in his throat. “—or unless I am given permission.” A few panting breaths were all he had to recover. If he took too long, Cas might get impatient and punish him.

A small part of him wanted to clamp his fucking lips shut and take whatever Cas would dish out.

“No matter what, I am not allowed to c—oh my _God_ ,” Dean gasped. Cas’ blunt head pressed into him, hard against his tightness, the arm around Dean’s hips and splayed on his belly urged Dean down against the intrusion, Cas’ other hand guiding himself into place. “ _Fuck_!” His eyes flooded with tears and he squeezed them shut, but he adored the way Cas felt _enormous_ spreading him open. The wonderful strain of his body was addictive, tinged with pain because he wasn’t really adequately lubed, his muscles were not ready to accommodate something so big. The hand on his stomach crept lower, pinky tangling in the hairs at the base of Dean’s cock. His chest heaved with the effort of not crying out, not screwing up more than he already had.

The way Jimmy was practically sobbing and whispering, “holy shit, Cassie – Dean, you’re fucking _amazing_ , God that’s hot, look at his _face_ , Cas, you’re a fricken _genius_...” definitely did not help.

Barely within him – just enough that Dean could feel the wonderful heat against his sensitive inner flesh, just enough that he could feel Cas’ heartbeat thrumming through his body – Cas stopped. “Dean, I gave you instructions. I will forgive your infraction, but only if you continue.”

“No matter what, I’m not allowed come until Cas tells me,” Dean released in a rush. Gasping in huge breaths as if he’d just run a race, Dean struggled to center himself.

“And Dean – why do you follow those instructions?” Cas practically cooed in his ear.

 _Because you asked me to, Cas. Because you want me to. Because I_ need _to be good for you._

And Dean didn’t say a fucking word, clamping his teeth down against the answer, against desperate begging mewls, because Cas had been crystal clear – explain his orders, and then shut his fucking mouth.

The moment stretched out in silence, the only sounds Dean’s broken breaths, Cas’ ragged pants, and the wet smack of Jimmy’s hand on his cock.

“Isn’t he good for me?” Cas gave Dean’s belly an approving pat with hand that trembled faintly and breached Dean tortuously slowly. The man fucking _better_ be affected, with how his touches were making Dean feel. It was all Dean could do not sob in relief that Cas was filling him. And then there was Jimmy, Dean still watching when he could see through the dancing colors of the room and the tears. Jimmy looked like he was coming apart at the seams, leaning forward in his chair to watch them avidly, hand stroking himself smooth and fast and hard. Dean watched Jimmy’s face and imagined how Cas’ must look as that wonderful cock was pressed on all sides by the rough tightness of Dean’s underprepared ass.

“Damn,” muttered Cas. “Jimmy, get over here.”

“Sure,” Jimmy’s voice was thready with surprise and desire. Releasing his cock, leaving it to point before him, ruddy and leaking, Jimmy rose and crossed to the bed. His desperate gaze was like a touch over Dean’s body. Cas’ fingers crept down to spread around Dean’s painfully hard cock, massaging at the sensitive skin around the base, minutely manipulating his balls, teasing him, pushing Dean to the edge of his self-control. If he pressed his hips back, he’d have more of Cas filling him. If he pressed his hips forward, he could coax Cas’ hand around his neglected cock. But he didn’t fucking move. Jimmy stared, muttered inaudibly, and grunted as he gave his dick a jerk. Dean watched every damn move the man made, tingling as his mind supplied the ghost of the feeling of that hand around Dean’s cock. “What can I do ya for, Cassie?”

“Put one of your hands down here. I want you to feel how tight he is,” said Cas.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..._ fingers brushed Dean’s opening, over the wrinkled skin stretched taut around Cas’ gorgeous, large cock, not more than halfway inside him, and Dean’s entire body quaked uncontrollably. His lip caught between his teeth to keep from crying, and his cock jumped so violently between his legs that it smeared his inner thigh with liquid. Vision tunneling, all he could see was the way Jimmy’s grip on himself stalled, the way the flushed tip of Jimmy’s cock oozed. All he could hear was his own thoughts screaming that he _had_ to have someone touch him, the whimpers that escaped Cas as Jimmy’s fingers touched them both.

“Yeah,” squeaked Jimmy. “Feels like our first time, don’t it, Cas?”

_Alone in a bedroom, Jimmy lay on his belly, hand reaching back to tentatively touch his pucker. He rubbed himself, pressed in, but he was only just learning his anatomy and wasn’t sure what to do. Hesitant brushes tingled pleasure that stole gasps from the young man. Tentatively, he pressed the tip of one finger against himself._

_Suddenly, confident hands came to rest on Jimmy’s hard ass cheeks. “Let me help you with that, brother,” Cas said eagerly._

_“Please, Cas,” Jimmy’s voice hitched with longing._

_Unseen by his brother, Cas thrust his finger into his mouth, slicking it with saliva, as his eyes devoured the sight of Jimmy ineptly touching himself, his ears devoured Jimmy’s desperate whimpers._

_“Shhh, don’t worry Jimmy, I’ve got you.”_

_The moistened finger shoved against Jimmy’s hole and breached him in a single smooth motion, driving into the knuckle._

_“Fuck,_ yes _, brother!”_

These two were going to fucking kill him. Dean was going to fucking _die._ Jimmy couldn’t mean what those words implied. Could not. _Shit_.

“I need your help,” Cas said. Jimmy teased a finger at Dean’s rim, Cas slipped perceptibly deeper into him, and Cas buried a moan in Dean’s sweaty hair.

Not screaming his fucking lungs out right then? About the hardest thing Dean had _ever_ done.

But he did it.

“Put your hands on his hips – push him down for me.” There was urgency in Cas’ voice, because Cas needed Dean, needed to be inside him, and fuck if knowing that wasn’t worth more all the teasing and waiting. Nodding, Jimmy let his cock go, gripped Dean’s hips securely, one hand smearing Dean’s skin with Jimmy’s pre-come. Only a frantic tensing of his abdomen, hips and buttocks kept Dean from thrusting towards Jimmy. Cas moaned again, deep and hot, into Dean’s shoulder as every muscle of Dean’s lower body clamped down around Cas’ cock. “Don’t...don’t do that, Dean.”

A faint whimper echoed in Dean’s closed mouth, but he managed to make himself relax, just a little. With firm pressure, Jimmy pushed down and back against him, and Cas pushed up, and with a burning chafe of friction that spun euphoric pain and pleasure through Dean, Cas was finally, finally penetrating him as deeply as their position would allow. Dean trembled uncontrollably, unable to see a damn thing except a blur of Jimmy’s pale skin, a distorted outline flipping him off, white walls, and red hardness.

Fuck, but this was _perfect_. This was exactly what he needed today. How the fuck did Cas always know? A chance to prove himself, to show he wasn’t pathetic just because he didn’t have a job, a chance to show that he had willpower, that he could behave himself, that he could be what Cas wanted – be what Jimmy wanted.

None of the three of them moved, matched in panting breath, racing hearts, and passion. By tiny degrees that felt monumental to Dean, his body eased to accommodate Cas’ bulk and he regained a small semblance of self control. His vision cleared to show him Jimmy, staring at him with slack-jawed amazement, checks bright, eyes dark. Dean’s breathing slowed to a manageable pace, and the gentle touch of Cas hand against his crotch gave him something to focus on, kept him grounded.

After what felt like for-fucking-ever, Cas shifted against Dean’s back, adjusted where Dean’s arms rested around Cas’ back, pulled out slightly and gave an experimental thrust in. With the time to gather himself, Dean barely had to struggle to keep calm despite how amazing it felt, and Jimmy muttered, “sweet mother of...”

“Thank you for your help,” said Cas graciously. Taking his cue, Jimmy let go of Dean’s hips and took a step back from the bed. The absence of Jimmy’s hands pinning him, of Jimmy’s body obscuring Dean’s view of the room, struck Dean unexpectedly like a physical loss. “Watch.” There was an unmistakable hint of smugness in Cas’ voice. “Dean, lean forward.” Muscles long locked in the same position protested as Dean obliged, shifted his weight until his chest was over his knees. His cuffed hands caught around Cas waist and dragged the other man with him, but Cas mimicked Dean’s movements, reducing the strain. The bed rocked beneath them, threatening to topple him, and the change in his position allowed a sudden burst of blood to Dean’s legs, spasming pins and needles burning through his calves. “Right there. Stop moving.” Dean froze and Cas groaned against his neck. Jimmy watched the whole process with curiosity, circling the head of his cock teasingly, lip caught between his teeth as if he were considering something.

A hand nudged Dean to shift his ankles further apart, and through the pain he managed to do it, and then Cas had him lower his hips a little. Crowding close behind him, careful not to dislodge himself from Dean’s ass, Cas adjusted his own position, moving his legs to straddle Dean’s. Wherever Cas’ legs touched Dean’s, pain prickled through him. It was a good thing, his thoughts pointed out with a hint of hysteria. Though the discomfort threatened his ability to obey, it also was all that brought him down to earth. Without it, he had no idea how he’d get through whatever Cas had in store. Jimmy met Dean’s eyes and licked his lips suggestively. Son of a bitch.

One of Cas’ hands brushed past Dean’s side and came to rest on the mattress near Dean’s knee. With a movement so swift Dean barely had time to prepare himself, Cas pulled nearly all the way out of him and then thrust back in _hard_. Friction burned joy through his flesh. Dean gritted his teeth and thanked every fucking star in the sky that Cas had somehow managed to miss his prostate. Even without that, it felt fantastic, a sprinkle of pain and an immense of amount of bliss coursing through him.

“Fuck,” whispered Jimmy. “Fuck...fuck...fuck...” Jimmy’s fingers curled once more over his cock, his eyes locked with Dean’s gaze and lidded with gratification, the curse word leaking from his lips endlessly.

Cas pivoted back and thrust in powerfully again. Catching his lip between his teeth, Dean shifted his weight minutely, just in time for Cas to fuck into him a third time, and a fourth, a fifth, wave after wave of pleasure, Cas’ breathing stuttering around groaning satisfaction and fractured words of praise. “So...so _good_ , Dean, _damn_ are you tight today, so _great_ , you’re doing _great_...so proud of you...” Jimmy’s eyes were beginning to roll back in his head, his word dissolved into a long moan that still vaguely resembled his swearing.

_Yeah, that’s right, watch me get my brains fucked out by your brother. You like that Jimmy? Fuck how I hoped you would, and you do, and..._

Ecstasy flooded him, the world dissolved in white like a reel of film burning up. Cas had found his fucking prostate, and holy _shit_ it was a miracle he didn’t come, entire body seizing up tightly. If Cas sensed how close Dean was – he must, from the way he groaned as he struggled to pull back against Dean’s clenched muscles – it didn’t cause him to relent. Cas buried himself deep again and again, pace punishing and amazing.

 

“See how good he is?” Cas panted. He drew back and pounded into Dean again with a broken moan. “ _God_ you’re good, Dean. You’re so good for me. Look at Jimmy’s face – look what watching you be so perfect is doing to him.” Another hard thrust rocked Dean forward and pierced him through with bliss. Fragmented glimpses of Jimmy’s expression, slack with lust, proved Cas’ words.

“Not just good,” Jimmy managed, each word twisting into a groan. “He’s fucking _amazing_ Cas. You lucky fucking bastard. I’ve never been so jealous in my life.”

With another thrust that brushed indescribably against his receptive bundle of nerves, the voice in Dean’s head that naysayed everything he did whispered frantically that there was _no way_ he could do this. It felt too good, much to good, too good for all three of them, and there was no way, another stroke or two and he was _done_.

A gentle kiss at the base of his neck broke through his frenetic thoughts. “You should be jealous,” the words were spoken to Jimmy, but their low inflection hit Dean right in the gut, twisting in him, and he knew that Cas was speaking to him more than his brother. “Dean’s mine, Jimmy.”

 _Dean’s mine_.

He _had_ to do this for Cas.

As Cas found a rhythm, Dean teetered on the edge but held himself back, thoughts exploding and reforming every time Cas bottomed out. Stroke after stroke found him deep, hit him with rapture, and he took it, he took all of it. As long as he followed his orders, he was allowed to have this pleasure. If he couldn’t be good, he didn’t deserve to feel this way. Jimmy’s hand slowed and stilled, his expression slipped from lustful into pure incredulity at what he was seeing. A smirk played over Dean’s face for an instant, before Cas got his prostate again and demolished all smugness, but not before Jimmy saw, huffed a laugh, and pursed his lips suggestively, pink tip of a tongue just sticking out.

Cas froze.

Dean nearly crumpled at the unexpected change, body quivering, panting, skin dampened, face wet.

Jimmy blinked in surprise.

“Do you want to suck his dick?” offered Cas.

_Oh GOD, no, no, no, no..._

“Fuck, yeah,” breathed Jimmy as if his every damn wish had just been granted.

_Shit, no, no, no, no way, no can do, no siree, absolutely not..._

Dropping to his knees, looking up at Dean’s face with a fervent expression, Jimmy opened his mouth wide and ran a single finger over Dean’s cock. If Cas had moved right then, Dean would have lost it instantly. As it was, it was a near thing. White pre-come dripped from him, and after so long neglected the mere brush of a touch was ecstatic. A choked sob died in Dean’s throat, barely.

_Can’t, there’s no way, this is impossible, no one could fucking do this._

For the first time in any scene they’d done together, Dean’s safe word screamed across his thoughts, “funky town” emblazoned in neon across his scoured brain. If he said it, this would stop, he could shatter, he could scream, he could collapse, he could let the knife’s edge on which he teetered rip him apart. Cas would understand. Cas _had_ to know that this was too much, that this was more than he could do.

The reverent expression on Jimmy’s face brought him up short.

Cas wouldn’t have suggested Jimmy do this if he didn’t think Dean could handle it. In the months they’d been fucking – in the years that they’d been friend – Cas had _never_ set Dean up for anything less than stellar success.

Jimmy’s hand left Dean’s dick, lifted to rest on his shoulder, holding him up. Pressing closely against Dean’s back, Cas moved the arm from between Dean’s legs and wrapped it securely, reassuringly, around Dean’s waist, fingers coming to rest over his racing heart.

“I believe in you, Dean,” Castiel exhaled softly in his ear, for him alone, no way that Jimmy could have heard.

Lips, chapped rough, kissed the tip of Dean’s cock, trembling pleasure through his body. Hot, wet _perfection_ enveloped the head, sucking down pre-come with an appreciative moan. Each of Dean’s breaths was a gasp tinged with desperate noise, and Cas didn’t reprimand him, didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, the hand over his heart pet him gently, soothingly, promising him that it was alright.

Jimmy’s eyes never left Dean’s, even as pink lips spread over Dean’s cock, pale compared to the blood flushing Dean’s hardness; even as Jimmy’s hand stroked himself desperately; even as he tenderly took more and more of Dean’s length inside him. Expertly, Jimmy tongued at Dean’s slit, sucking slightly only to stop tantalizingly, maneuvering Dean in his mouth using only his tongue, his throat, his cheeks, his lips. It was hands down the best blow job he’d ever had, even better than Cas’.

“Isn’t he good at that?” said Cas affectionately. “We’ve had a _lot_ of practice.” Dean hadn’t the least clue which of them Cas was talking to, and before he could spin out the ramifications if Cas was talking to Dean, was referring to Jimmy’s wicked tongue, Cas rocked his hips backwards and forwards, moving himself within Dean, and there was no room left for any thought.

The hard strokes of earlier were gone. In their place, Cas held him close and hardly pulled out or pushed in, instead undulating his hips against Dean’s body, causing his cock to shift and rub and move within Dean, causing Dean’s body to rock forward into Jimmy’s eager mouth, rock backwards into Cas’ hard pelvis and thighs. He was fucking _lost_ , it felt so amazing, the combination better than anything he’d ever imagined. It was exhilarating, better drugs, better than booze. The balance between holding on versus losing it, sobbing and coming, was delicate, but he found it. Cas had been right, as always. The air rushing from him felt like someone else breathing against his soul, his heart straining felt like a runner’s high, the strain of holding back his orgasm felt disconnected from the exaltation purging him of every sin he’d ever committed. He was blissed out on Cas’ solid body enfolding him protectively, Jimmy’s hand supporting him, Jimmy’s mouth worshiping him, Cas’ cock massaging the most sensitive parts of him. He was safe. He was cared for. He was protected. He was allowed to have this. Once they’d finished taking what they wanted from his body, Dean would be allowed what he needed. And _shit_ did what they took from him feel amazing.

Fingers found Dean’s nipple, twisted it roughly, pulled it, and the feeling of floating free of his body dissolved as he plummeted back into himself and cried out raggedly. He couldn’t help it, he felt so _good_.

The twins froze. It was Jimmy’s hand on his breast, Jimmy looking up at him in shock.

Mortification flooded Dean. Cas had been wrong after all. Dean couldn’t be what Cas or Jimmy needed him to be.

“How _dare_ you?” hissed Cas. A dagger of anxiety and shame twisted in Dean’s heart. He’d apologize except that doing so would mean speaking _again_. “Dammit, Jimmy. I told you his rules. _He_ told you his rules.” There was real anger in Cas voice, and even though Dean knew intellectually that it wasn’t aimed at him, there wasn’t much intellect left in his fucked-out brain and the harsh words struck him like a rain of blows. Shadowy memories echoed Cas icy ire in John’s screaming voice as John grabbed Dean’s arm, threw him against the corner of the table because Dean had gotten caught nicking cereal for Sammy’s breakfast, as if Sam would even fucking _eat_ if Dean didn’t steal shit for him.

“You do _not_ know his body well enough to test his limits like that,” Cas snapped.

Shame-faced, Jimmy pulled his mouth from Dean, moved away, but instead of helping, the that loss hurt as acutely as the acid in Cas’ voice. “Cassie...” Jimmy mumbled apologetically.

“If you were paying any attention to anyone’s pleasure other than your own, _brother_ , you’d have seen how close he is, how hard he’s trying, how good he’s being. If you’re going to be a selfish jerk, you don’t deserve him, and you should leave. Remember who we’re doing this for.”

“Cas...”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” There was the familiar disgust, the echo of Dean’s disgust with himself in Cas’ voice. _No, not me – Jimmy, he’s mad at Jimmy_. The thought didn’t make him feel a bit better.

“He’s crying, Cas,” Jimmy sounded profoundly ashamed. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you screw up, just wanted to make you feel good.”

_Yeah, I screwed up. I screw up everything. I’m a screw up. I’ll always be a screw up._

“Shit,” muttered Cas. The swear word was so incongruous that it startled Dean out of the terrible loop of self-recrimination he had tumbled into. The hand over his heart tensed. “Dean, look at me.” Dean lifted his head to glance over his shoulder and meet Cas’ eyes. There was a gentle smile on Cas’ beautiful pink lips, affection in his eyes that cut Dean to the quick. _You don’t deserve_...he cut the thought off, staring into gorgeous blue, soaking in the confidence evident in every line of Cas’ expression. “I’m sorry, Dean. That wasn’t your fault. It was mine, for not making sure that Jimmy understood clearly what was and wasn’t allowed. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him. I’m to blame.” Straining forward, Cas planted a kiss on Dean’s wet cheek. “What happens next is up to you.” The bottom fell out of his stomach. “Do you want Jimmy to stay?”

“Cas...” he whispered experimentally. His throat was tight from the restraint that had kept him quiet so long, dry from his labored breathing. “Castiel...” Lust swamped Cas’ eyes as Dean watched him, desire and something Dean didn’t dare put a name to – it was too precious, too special, too alien, too far from anything he was allowed to have – on that beautiful face. “Before...Cas, you said I was yours.”

“Yes, Dean,” said Cas. “That’s how I feel about you – about us. Is that alright?”

“I’m yours,” Dean agreed, relieved. “Doesn’t matter what I want. You decide.”

A light chuckle dissolved into a sigh. “I want a real opinion.”

“Don’t—”

A shift of Cas' hips pressed heat inside him and a moan he couldn’t repress broke off Dean’s refusal.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll stop,” threatened Cas, but his words held no rancor, only kindness. He rolled his hips back and thrust into Dean again, the pleasure that had faded under Dean’s dark thoughts returning quickly.

“Please don’t stop,” Dean whispered desperately. He hated to ask, hated to admit his longing, but he couldn’t bear the alternative.

“Good,” encouraged Cas. He drew back, thrust forward again, and Dean moaned once more. On the floor before the bed, Jimmy echoed the moan. Part of Dean wanted to look, but Cas had finally relaxed his restrictions, and Dean only had eyes for his best friend. His cock twitched, the raw heat of surging blood a strange counterpoint to the chilling spit coating him.

“Feels so good, Cas...” He wanted Jimmy’s mouth back so badly.

“I’m glad,” said Cas. “When you feel good, I feel good, Dean. I want you to have things that make you happy. Did Jimmy?”

“Yes,” the confession felt ripped from him. “Felt so fucking good, Jimmy...”

Another thrust, and it was all he could do not to press his ass back against Cas’ body. He wanted everything Cas could give him, wanted it right then, no more restraints, no more waiting. Jimmy was panting beneath them, and Dean could hear the distinct, wet sound of a hand passing over a cock rapidly.

“If you want him to continue, I will let him, for your sake,” Cas said. “Otherwise, he has to leave.”

“No,” gasped Dean, desperate. “Fuck, no, please, Cas. I want Jimmy’s lips, I want your cock, please, fuck _please_ , is it okay? Can I have that? Can I have both?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas fucking _purred_ against his back. “You’ve been incredible for me today. You are allowed to ask for things when you behave so well. Jimmy, you heard Dean. Give him what he wants.”

“ _Hells_ yeah, bro.”

Shoving Dean forward, Cas resumed the gentle, fucking _amazing_ rocking, rubbing and pressing everywhere inside him. There was a smack of lips – Dean couldn’t look any longer, his eyes squeezed shut – and then tenderness and wetness closed about his tip, a sultry tongue curled around him. The first moments were awkward, Jimmy hesitant, Cas careful, but it felt too good for the tension to last, and no time passed at all before Dean balanced precariously on the brink once more, body shaking with the effort of holding himself back, sweat and tears and saliva dripping down his face, off his chin, onto his thighs and cock and Jimmy’s face. Cas’ hand never left Dean’s heart, full-throated moans escaping the gorgeous man behind him as Cas strained to maintain his moderate pace. Humming groans echoed through Jimmy’s throat, through Dean’s cock, through his entire body, and the world fell away.

“I want to hear you, Dean.” Cas pulled out and thrust harder, and Dean burst out a groan.

“Fuck, Cas,” he moaned. Jimmy sucked hard, every rocking thrust ground against his insides, and he was in heaven. This was it. He’d been right. They’d fucking killed him, and this was heaven. “Fuck, Jimmy...this is...”

Cas drawing his hips away from him gave Dean a split-seconds warning before Cas thrust into him as hard as he could, biting a groan into Dean’s shoulders, pushing Dean forward, deeper into Jimmy’s mouth. “Holy...Cas!” Dean sobbed. “Cas, take me, take me, please!” With a growl, Cas drew back and fucked into him with all his might again. “I’m yours, Cas, please – I’m yours.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas practically snarled. “And I don’t claim anyone who isn’t perfect. I’ve never claimed _anyone_ before. But Dean, you’re perfect. You’re _absolutely perfect._ Do you understand?”

“Yes...” he mumbled, but he could hardly believe. The arm embracing him squeezed, the throat around him swallowed, and his impending orgasm incinerated his flesh inch by inch. _Not yet...can’t yet..._ Cas lifted them both onto their knees, ignoring a choking sound as Jimmy gagged, causing stuttering pressure all along Dean’s length and leaving him giddy with delight. Cas pulled nearly all the way out, only the head of his cock still inside Dean, and held that position. Jimmy’s tongue played along his length, sucking tauntingly at Dean’s head as Jimmy hummed his pleasure.

“Focus, Dean. You are _perfect_. You are _mine_. You and Jimmy – you are all that I want. Do you understand?”

Jimmy modulated his pitch in agreement and Dean whimpered.

“Please, Cas!”

God, he was close, so close, so close, _so close..._

“Answer me, Dean.”

Not without Cas, he’d never come without Cas, not without Jimmy, he needed them both, he needed all three of them to feel so good they couldn’t stand it. He needed them to achieve this together.

“Fill me, Cas, please!”

“Not until you agree, Dean. Not until you believe me.”

Jimmy groaned, the sound spreading goose bumps along Dean’s skin. _So close..._

But he didn’t come, because Cas hadn’t told him to. Maybe...maybe he really wasn’t so bad...maybe he even was a little perfect... “I understand, Cas. I understand! I can be perfect for you, only you. I’m perfect, just for you, just for Jimmy.”

Cas jerked Dean’s body down hard, slamming into Deans’s prostate, and Dean howled in pleasure even though the movement freed him from Jimmy’s mouth. “Yes, you are. Brother?”

“Yeah, Cassie?” Jimmy’s voice was wrecked, thin and raspy and strung out with delayed gratification and the strain of administering to Dean’s cock.

“Show Dean that you can deep throat.”

A lascivious, sultry chuckle answered those words, lips closed around Dean, Cas drew back for another thrust...

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god..._

Jimmy was taking him in, taking all of him, tilting his head back and swallowing down and surrounding him with pressure and heat and moisture. Cas drew Dean’s chest back, thrust hard up into Dean’s body, incandescent pleasure erupting through Dean’s body.

Dean screamed.

Cas was already drawing out again, gripping Dean hard, and Jimmy’s throat stuttered around him as a desperate moan died around Dean’s cock. They were as close as he was, he knew it, he could feel it, he just had to...just had to...

“Come, Dean.”

With a slap of balls on flesh, Cas was in him again; with a swallow, Jimmy was sucking on him, and Dean dissolved limply into his orgasm, sight lost in whiteness, all feeling disappearing save the transcendence of one frozen moment. Strong, trembling arms held him upright. Cas thrust urgently into Dean, moaning through their paired orgasms, pushing Dean higher and higher. Jimmy’s lips were around the head of his cock, drinking down every bit of Dean’s release. With a gasp, Jimmy pulled free, and moaned desperately as he, too, came.

“Perfect, Dean,” Cas moaned in his ear, quivering with the effort of holding Dean upright. “I needed you to do that, and you did. Perfect for me. Perfect for us.”

“Thank you,” Dean whispered.

Nothing he’d done had ever felt so good.

Warmth and strength surrounded his front, Jimmy shaking, enfolding him, and fuck but having them both embrace him was better than he’d ever dreamed. “That was incredible, Dean. I had no idea how fricken _awesome_ you are. Thanks for not sending me away. Thank you.”

“One hell of a BJ...” managed Dean. “Glad you came...glad you stayed...”

Gently, they eased him down to the mattress. Cas wrapped arms around Dean’s chest and legs around his hips as shaking began to wash over him in uncontrollable waves. “Jimmy, the keys are in the night stand drawer.”

“Sure thing.” Jimmy’s warmth and bulk stepped away, and Dean whimpered with sorrow. There was a clatter of a drawer opening and closing, and then fingers on his wrists, unlocking the hand cuffs, freeing his arms. With a pained groan, Dean drew his arms forward, wrapped his hands around Cas’. Euphoric pleasure and pain washed through him in alternating, rippling tides.

Yeah, that was the best experience of his life. Hands down. No contest.

Letting his eyes slip shut, he allowed himself to revel in it. He felt fucking _magnificent_ , thoughts filled with delight at his success, the knowledge that he’d gotten both of them off, followed his orders. He’d been perfect for them. He wasn’t a fuck up. He could do well by the people he cared about. He could raise the money for Sam’s text books. He could leave Cas and Jimmy both strung out on pleasure.

“So...I guess I should go...now...” Jimmy said, voice overly bright and cheerful. “Seriously, best sex of my life, and, like, what I did even barely counted as sex. I’m sorry I nearly fucked everything up. Guess that’s that.” Footsteps muffled against the carpet as Jimmy walked away.

_Don’t leave..._

“Cas...” mumbled Dean.

“What is it?” Cas asked, sounding exhausted, but instantly alert as he caught some hint in Dean’s voice that something was amiss.

“Jimmy...” The footsteps stopped. “Can Jimmy stay?”

“Would you like it if he stayed?” Cas’ alarm faded into affection.

“Want him to stay.” Dean’s eyes slipped open to show him Jimmy, still incongruously fully clothed, his spent dick out of sight amidst the red satin boxers that yet peeked out, his expression completely shocked.

“Well, brother, what do you think?”

“Really?” The amazement in Jimmy’s voice was fucking _adorable_ , and Dean giggled. He reached out a weak arm, shoulder straining painfully after being locked behind his back for so long. Jimmy took a hesitant step forward, reaching out towards Dean’s fingers, brushing them, clasping them. Dean gave him a weak tug towards the bed.

“C’mon, Jimmy,” he mumbled. His eyes ached grittily. Fuck, he was tired.

“You heard him,” Cas said.

“O...okay...” Jimmy whispered incredulously.

An instant later, he was on the bed alongside Dean, clothed back against Dean’s bare chest, cradled to Dean’s body as Dean was cradled to Cas.

Surrounded by safety, care, respect, protection, affection, Dean hummed a happy, off-key melody that no one but he would have recognized as “Just What I Needed” and drifted, hardly able to believe that he could feel so good after how terrible he’d felt earlier. He was barely aware when Cas moved away, barely aware of warm, wet terry cloth gently cleaning his face, scrubbing his back, sponging leaking wetness from between his legs. He sighed happily when heat and hard flesh crowded his back again, when Jimmy shifted and the washcloth was run over his chest, cleaned the drying spunk and spit from his cock, ran down his thighs. An inarticulate murmur of distress escaped him when Jimmy’s weight shifted away, and Cas answered with soothing noises, easing touches, and Dean quieted. Soft fabric settled over their bodies, a blanket he supposed, and a moment later Jimmy rolled back onto the bed and tucked himself against Dean, naked skin rubbing against Dean’s. With a relieved sigh, Dean sunk against Jimmy’s back, wrapped an arm around the younger twin’s waist.

“Thanks, Cas,” he murmured sleepily. “Thanks, Jimmy. I needed that. You have no idea how much I need that.”

“Anytime, Dean,” replied Jimmy, voice thick with emotion.

“So good for us,” was Cas’ answer. “Sleep now, Dean. We’re watching over you.”

“Angels,” Dean breathed out against the skin of Jimmy’s back. Angels were watching over him. “You’re _both_ angels. My angels.”

“Yes, Dean.” He honestly had no idea which of them was speaking, the words echoing. Maybe it was both of them, maybe he just imagined it as he surrendered to his fatigue. “We’re yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Random after notes!
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious...I picture Cas as being more like angel!Cas, and Jimmy as closer to 2014!Cas. Though maybe a little less interested in orgies and drugs. Maybe. A little.
> 
> I promise it's not a "thing" that Jimmy always screws up and gets chastised by Cas. It just kinda worked out that way in both stories...in the first, because Jimmy doesn't have Cas' self-control; in this one, because Jimmy doesn't have much experience with d/s stuff.
> 
> ...I have written 25,000 words of these three and still haven't decided if Cas and Jimmy have ever *actually* engaged in incest, lol. Thoughts, anyone?
> 
> Does anyone know if Dean ever cracks a joke about his safe word? I could swear he did, but I can't remember, and Google-fu has failed me on this one. I found some vague ideas that it's "Impala?" If that's the case, I wouldn't have used it anyway. That strikes me as a *lousy* safe word, because it's something I could conceive of Dean saying for *legitimate reasons* during sex. My impression was that safe words are something the person using it would NEVER just accidentally let slip during a sexual encounter, so I went with "funky town," which, after all, was code for Dean being in trouble...(well, having a gun to his head, but close enough, right? :) )
> 
> Title is a reference to "[Just What I Needed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5-rdr0qhWk)", by the Cars, which I also reference in the story.
> 
> Resisted referencing "[Angel of the Morning,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fqeeBCtQhA)" at the end, a song that in my heart I think Dean knows every word to though he'd never, ever admit it. (I prefer the Merrilee Rush version, so that's the link...). 
> 
> All further additions to this series will be smutty one shots written when I feel like it. If you want more, you can let me know, but I'm trying to keep at least one series that I have a casual attitude towards, so no promises on when more might be coming. :) I'm likely to write Dean and Cas' first time as a prequel sometime soonish. :)


End file.
